Page 123 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

And she’s right. So right that I am on a plane, buckling my seatbelt as we begin our final descent towards the airport, floating in over NYC. And it’s everything I expected. The city is like a diamond-studded blanket surrounded by the deep, royal blue ocean. The taxi ride down into the heart of it all is just as impressive. Honking horns, scuttling people, and of course, more lights. As we head to the resort, we pass Madison Square Garden, and I swear I can’t take photos fast enough. I also can’t stop smiling, even if my heart is in my stomach and my stomach is in my throat.

“Here we are, Miss Scarlettt,” Seb says as he pulls up to the curb.

“Thank you, Seb, for everything,” I tell him. Because of course, when I got off the plane, he was the one waiting for me. He even had a sign which made me laugh and almost cry.

“You say that like this is goodbye,” he tells me.

“You never know…” I say.

“No, Miss Scarlettt, you never do,” he says with a wink. I turn to walk into the resort, and that’s when it hits me. I am really here. Not just in NYC but in the Bale Resort. And somewhere here, Morgan is waiting for me. Somewhere past the huge crowd of people.

Lordy.

And here I was thinking Bale was suffering from bad media. But as people watch me walk towards the main doors, cameras and phones come out; it occurs to me that they’re here for me. For him. For us.

But totally no pressure.

I walk inside and immediately I am ushered by a woman in a Bale Resorts shirt to the bar upstairs. As in at the top of the building. The very, very top.

“You nervous?” she asks me on the way to the quiet elevator.

“No. Yes. Maybe a little,” I admit, and she smiles.

“It’s okay. You didn’t hear it from me, but Morgan is totally nervous too.”

“He is?” I ask, and she nods.

“Sweating bullets…”

I have to smile at that until the door opens. It’s a private rooftop bar with plants and a couple tables and fairy lights and…

“Morgan,” I say as I step out of the elevator. It closes behind me, but I still don’t move. In the middle of the space is Morgan, standing there staring at me. And the woman was right. He’s a mess.

“Hello, Scarlett,” he says gently. And then, “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”

“Well, it’s not every day I get invited to New York City for a spontaneous getaway, so I figured, why not? One more thing crossed off the bucket list, you know?”

“Right,” he says. Then I take a few steps closer. The only thing more awkward than standing here with him right now is standing at a social distancing distance. It is 2026 after all.

Then we speak at the same time.

“Scarlett.”

“Morgan,”

“No,” he says. “Me first. Please. I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have walked out of the airport like that. I should have stayed. Talked. Figured things out,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I was intrigued by you the day I met you. Before we even met, actually. I saw you in the lobby of the Sapphire and almost introduced myself. Then, when I found you in the suite, well, I just had to know who you were. Though I will admit that I never intended it to go that far,” he admits, and my cheeks flush. “But also, I don’t regret it.”

“And that’s the thing, Scarlett. I don’t regret any of it. Hiring you, traveling with you, letting you see the real me. The only thing I regret is not admitting that I knew who you were. I just didn’t want you to think I was hiring you because of that. And I actually never intended to keep your book. I actually tried to get rid of it,”

“You did?” I ask.

“I threw it away. And it followed me. I wanted to use it to show you the world. But I never used it for myself. It was you. Everything was for you because you changed me, Scarlett. You reintroduced me to myself. And the more I discovered myself again, the more I fell for you.”

I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “It’s not all on you,” I tell him. “We both pretended to be strangers at the interview. And as far as the babies go…I didn’t know until we left for San Diego. I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how. I was afraid,” I admit and my voice cracks with the words.

Morgan takes a step closer, closing the space between us even more. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry you were going through it alone.”

“I just knew you didn’t want kids,” I tell him, and his brow furrows.